Spurt of the moment
by GrimCookie
Summary: But it almost feels magical, running away from the church in her wedding dress and gown. [Petunia Centric.]


**I honestly don't know what got me to write this. I guess I like Petunia when she was a Evans and the aus that are on this site about her. Maybe one day I'll write one of my own about her.**

 **Have this for now. I love it when Petunia doesn't marry Vernon lol.**

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Petunia doesn't sleeps that day. She is going to get married, Evans will be changed to Dursley after only a year or so of dating. She hadn't counted the days, minutes and hours blurring together every time she came and went from one point to another. It's especially hard when Lily comes back home and the universe shifts to gravitate towards the pretty redhead, like it always did.

The bags from under her eyes are concealed behind a fine layer of makeup. Her hair _-stringy, lackluster and pale to her own mind-_ is done up in an elegant bun that holds the tiara of her gown. Her lips are painted a soft red that goes with her bouquet and a thin, silver necklace adorns her neck.

She should be happy, she thinks, because this is her wedding day. She is going to be married to Vernon Dursley.

She should be happy, but the reflection is nothing but a pale, neutral expression that for a second she doesn't recognizes.

She is getting married to a perfectly _normal_ man, having a perfectly _normal_ wedding and will raise a perfectly _normal_ family in a _perfectly normal_ house.

Petunia blinks, her reflection frowns. The red of her lips accentuates her expression and makes it look more real to her tired eyes.

She isn't happy for many reasons. The church is much too big for such a small wedding, her friends were off gossiping instead of helping her, she had been forced to give the place of bride's maid to Lily and she had brought along her freak of a husband to ruin this moment.

Her lips purse together in a thin line, gloved hand clenching against the bouquet as her mind supplies her with more negative nitpicks she tries to fight,

The church is fine, the wedding is fine, her friends- who cares about them? They're here to look pretty and she can tolerate Lily for a while.

There is a knock on the door and her sister pokes her head in. Her smile is radiant and her eyes twinkle with pride and happiness as she looks at her. Petunia wants to scream and laugh at the same time.

"Tuney, it's time."

She will have the perfect wedding- No matter the negative nitpicks. Her father escorts her to the aisle as the nuptial march plays. All eyes are on her as she makes her way, slowly, to her soon to be husband.

Vernon, her boyfriend, her normal fiance who shines with the promise of a plain, boring, normal life.

Petunia feels a stab of hate as she looks at him, in a black suit as piggish eyes greet her with a message along the lines of _'made for eachother_ '. She wants to vomit, but a normal bride wouldn't do that in her big day, in front of her husband.

Her eyes catch her mother, a thin smile on her face. She didn't approve, not really, her many 'are you sure?' late at night were proof enough.

Vernon's family is a show of thrilled expressions mixed with veiled disdain. She knew what they were thinking. Why would someone like Vernon pick _-washed up, plain, boring-_ Petunia Evans to be his wife?

She couldn't answer that either.

Her father's arm vanishes from hers, and she is standing at the altar in front of Vernon and the man who was going to unite them together. Her wedding vows are almost forgotten, coming from the very back of her mind as Vernon draws on his own vows. She should be moved, playing the part of the blushing bride as the groom takes her gloved hand puts a golden ring on her finger. It fits perfectly and feels like it burns.

Petunia opens her mouth, words spilling out that sound like a buzz to her ears. Her vows sound precise and crisp clear, as if she had been practicing them all day long when in reality, she had barely glanced at the paper that had them scrawled on this morning. Vernon's sister looks on with grudging approval, as if she didn't deserve her brother's hand in marriage.

The ring feels heavy, both of them. She exchanges hers without a word and with little feeling.

The priest smiles. It's normal for such a happy occasion, after all.

She looks at her bouquet, the red roses were pretty. Normal flowers for a bride to hold onto as she was united to her groom.

The priest speaks, a question reaching her ears and Petunia frowns, lips forming a small, thin line before answering.

"No."

It's a simple word. A normal answer for a normal question. Sort of. Kind of.

Vernon looks at her, his eyes confused for a moment as he asks if she was okay. Had she gotten confused? Nevermind, he says, smiling still. She repeats herself.

"No."

"Petunia?"

The ring slips from her finger as the crowd gasps. Vernon's family looks outraged more so than surprised. For some reason she can feel Lily's eyes drilling holes into her head.

She was getting married to a perfectly _normal_ man, having a perfectly _normal_ wedding and was going to raise a perfectly _normal_ family in a _perfectly normal_ house.

Her mind reels a little. Her own voice, patient like she had never heard herselfs asks. _'Do you want to marry him?'_

She answers just as calm, taking a step back. _'No, not really.'_

She turns around and walks. Someone calls her name and for some reason her blood boils. This was not what a perfect, normal bride did. Normal brides didn't walk away from the altar. Normal brides didn't exchange vows with their grooms only to abandon them the following second.

Her parents scream her name, and so does Vernon and his family as she picks up the pace and the hem of her dress, bouquet of roses still in hand.

Lily's voice sounds surprised over the crowd as she runs, and Petunia can almost hear what her sister is thinking. _'This is not her. Why would normal, plain Petunia do such an abnormal thing on her own wedding?'_

Petunia asks herself that question as she throws the church's doors open. A crowd outside looks on surprised as a bride steps out, no groom by her arm and no tear streaks on her face.

There is no real answer other than a _'Why not?'_ and _'I don't want to.'_ Maybe she is making a mistake, maybe she would regret it sooner rather than later. It was not normal.

But...

But it almost feels magical, running away from the church in her wedding dress and gown.


End file.
